The muggle
by Muscarie
Summary: They had not killed the muggle. Not yet. They had not immediately been absolutely sure that this was indeed a muggle. She had no wand, there was no magic oozing off of her, yet how had she managed to kill two Dementors and a Werewolf in feral form if she was nothing more than a slug?


They had not killed the muggle. Not yet.

They had not immediately been absolutely sure that this was indeed a muggle. She had no wand, there was no magic oozing off of her, yet how had she managed to kill two Dementors and a Werewolf in feral form if she was nothing more than a slug?

Draco had not even realised that it was possible to kill Dementors. He used to think that all you could do was scare them off, but never would have imagined that they could be... Terminated. They had all been astonished then, when it happened, first the dementors then the werewolf. The Hunt had only just started, really. They had picked smarter muggles in hope of getting a bit of a show, and somehow that one muggle had ended up in the Hunted, and at some point everything had gone to Hell and she had killed two Dementors and a werewolf. Then, to top it all up, she had broken Avery's wand.

The Hunt was a tradition as old as dark magic, which, though forgotten for many years, was now making a forceful comeback following You-Know-Who's resurrection. Deatheaters selected, or simply abducted muggles, put them in a magical maze, and unleashed various creatures after them. People bet on which muggle would last the longest, and on which would die first.

This year, seventeen years old Draco Malfoy was attending his first Hunt, and he secretly wished it could be his last. Up in the honor tribune, he had seen everything. It was not his mother, nor his father who had taken him there, his aunt Bellatrix was the one who had arranged to take him. You usually had to be at least 21 to attend a Hunt. Bella had dearly missed the Hunts during her time at Azkaban, and she had spent most of her time there thinking of new ways to track and kill muggles.

Seven muggles, five males and two females.

They were aged from 18 to 48, randomly selected, though apparently they had all come from some muggle higher education school. Smarter muggles gave a better show, because they really tried thinking of a way out, so Draco had been told.

Four had died within the first half hour. Then another within the ten minutes that followed. Everyone had laughed, because it had been one of the females, and she had tripped on a corpse after running in a circle around the maze for ages, and the fall had sprained her ankle, and the werewolf had eaten her alive. Draco had not laughed. He had forced a smile onto his lips as his aunt glanced at him- she was doubling over with laughter.

Two remained. The eldest, and the youngest. They did seem rather smart. They had run towards the same direction unfailingly, and had somehow managed to dodge the Werewolf- Marcus- by covering themselves in dirt and burying themselves in the thick hedges of the maze. The maze was a great enchanted construction in which many enchanted objects served as relay to display a bigger picture into the mist above, in such a way that the muggles and hunters never disappeared from the public' sight. It had been entertaining at first to watch these two muggles dodge their tormentors time and time again, but now it was becoming dull. 45 minutes in and they were still alive. Filthy, breathless, in tears, but very much alive. They just seemed so determined, in fact, it was like they had a plan and knew where they were going, which was impossible considering the fact that no muggle ever lived the Hunt to tell others what the maze was like.

At the centre of the maze was an abandoned house designed to make luckier muggles feel like they were catching a rest. The two muggles reached it like they had been expecting all along to find a house, and on their way there they had somehow managed to knock off the enchanted boots on the doorstep, therefore rendering the public imageless. The crowd booed with emphasis, then they all heard it. The howl of a dying werewolf. The crowd went silent, they all looked at the maze, hidden under thick mist. Images showed various places and green corridors around the house, but the house itself had they saw the shape of a Dementor flying away from the centre of the maze, in flames, and falling into ashes at their feet. Then another followed.

"What the...?"

As soon as they had recovered from the shock, a group of Deatheaters gathered, wands in hands, ready to go in. Of course, Bellatrix had volunteered, and of course, she had volunteered Draco. As they walked into the maze, into the cool, wet mist, and past the corpses of the muggles, Draco suddenly truly understood how lucky he was to have been born a pureblood, and how short and cruel his life could have turned out to be. The green walls opened for them, and they walked towards the house with confidence and determination. Bellatrix was almost cackling with excitement. She could at least have the decency to pretend to mourn Marcus, thought Draco. Not that he was feeling particularly mournful, but still. At least he was not giggling.

They reached the house, and spread menacingly around it. Marcus' body laid near the porch, a huge, bloody spear sticking out of it. The Deatheaters' dark figures must have made quite a sight to the two rabbits hiding inside. The Deatheaters did not show it, but they were all severely unsettled: what kind of rabbits were these two who had killed a big bad wolf?

Avery moved first. He climbed the steps without bothering to be discreet or on his guard, and when he reached the door, he carelessly reached then turned the handle, confident in his invicibility.

The door burst open, smacking him in the nose, and he fell backwards as with the strangled cry of a dying animal the male muggle ran out of the house and towards Avery. Luckily, Avery raised his wand in time and, ignoring the warm blood dripping down his chin, he uttered the killing spell. A flash of green, and the muggle was dead. Draco' shoulders relaxed, the sudden noise and running about had made him jump quite comically and his friend and fellow underage Deatheater Vincent, was already Sniggering at him.

Avery shook his head, spat on the dead muggle then walked into the house, a bit more carefully than before. There was no movement for a few seconds, but Draco still felt very tense. Everything was going wrong.

Then in a blur of movement the female muggle, the youngest of the Hunted, kicked the wand out of the wizard's hand, and hit him hard across the nose - the nose again- and he stumbled out of the house. All Deatheaters moved in, wands raised, and the girl vanished in the darkness of the house.

Wailing, Avery held his bloodied nose and simultaneously searched the damp grass around him, looking for his wand.

"She has it", said Bellatrix, "she has the wand!"

She looked like she could not quite decide whether to jump around in glee or pull at her own hair in rage.

They all looked at the house, unsure. This was not how raids usually went. Draco glanced nervously around him and could the others glancing too, and Vincent was looking at him with an eyebrow raised, as he always did: whatever the problem, Draco would know what to do. Except that this time, Draco had no idea. He had never even seen a muggle until that day. And he had never seen someone so close to death all they did was turn savage, and turn their desperation into animalistic, pointless rage. Surely the girl knew they would win, in the end? Why was she making it more painful for herself? Avery would definitely torture her, now, and in a way it would still be better than having Bellatrix get her hands in her first. The muggle would suffer.

"That SLUG!" Yelled Avery towards the house. "What are we waiting for? Let's get her!"

And he ran into the house, apparently having forgotten about his nose. Bellatrix followed suite, but when the others made to go after her she said:

"No, you boys secure the house, Draco you come in with us"

Oh no. Draco had no temptation whatsoever to go after the rabid muggle, he would much rather secure the house with Vincent. Saying no, however, was not an option.

He walked to the house.

In the entrance hall, plunged in darkness and smelling of dampness and dust, Bellatrix turned to him, and he could barely make out the spider like shape of her crazy hair, and the two shiny eyes in the middle.

"Avery has gone upstairs. This house has six rooms on the ground floor, and five on the first floor. I will inspect the basement, you look around this floor. Do not kill her, not until I get there. If you see the little rabbit, petrify her, crucio her or do anything you want with her, but do not kill her just yet."

She left, not bothering to check he had understood her. Bellatrix knew meek little Draco would never dare disobey her. She also knew he did not have the guts to kill someone, truly. She had always suspected it.

Once she disappeared further into darkness, down to the basement, Draco felt very much alone. Out of the windows he could just make out the shape of the Deatheaters patrolling around the house, and he could hear footsteps upstairs, and footsteps downstairs. He raised his wand, willing himself to stop being so spooked by some crazy little muggle. A crazy little muggle that killed werewolves and dementors. A crazy little muggle that realised power laid in the wand. He made to move into the room on his right, a kitchen, when suddenly heard a lot of commotion coming from above him. He stopped dead. He distinctively heard Avery swearing, then glass shattering, then Draco jumped out of his skin when something heavy tumbled down the stairs from the first floor and stopped at the bottom, unmoving. Avery.

Draco remained perfectly still. He stared at Avery's lifeless body, there, a couple of feet from him. He could see bits of glass encrusted in his coat, and a knife buried deep between his shoulder blades. This was going so wrong. He waited a minute or so but heard nothing.

"Aunt Bella?" He risked, though he did not dare raise his voice, and she did not hear him.

The young Malfoy considered his options. Stay here, wait. Pretend not to have heard anything and when Bella came back upstairs, explain he had not even noticed Avery had been killed. Or he could run past the stairs, into the basement, and look for his aunt. Or, last option, he could run outside and call for help. _And be the weak little ferret again. They hardly trust you, what will Father say if you run to your auntie? Surely you can handle a muggle._

Draco straightened his back, and considered the ultimate option: to walk upstairs on his own, and catch the girl. Surely he could do that. Avery had been killed, true, and he had been an experienced raider, true, but Avery was also a stupid butch of a man who ran head first into everything and never thought anything out. It was his own stupidity that had got him killed, not the muggle's unbelievable strength. _I am not an idiot._

Slowly, carefully, Draco removed his shoes, and he removed the big heavy cloak that hung on his shoulders. He would have cast a spell but did not want the muggle to hear his voice. He started towards the steps, careful, already creating for himself more chances of survival than Avery ever had. To be honest, it was a miracle that big idiot had survived for so long. That he had ended up killed by an 18 years old female muggle was the joke of the century, one which Draco would smirk at for years.

He reached the steps, looked up. Nothing. He climbed up.

Upstairs, the windows must have been open because the mist had crept in, and it smelt like a forest at night. All the doors but one were shut. Draco made sure to stick his back to the wall, not quite touching though so as not to risk any shuffling noise, and never moved past a door unless he was absolutely certain it could not open without his knowing. His feet made no sound, and his wand was raised, ready. His grey eyes scanned every shadow and every drop of mist, and he caught himself feeling...excited. He was not scared. Avery's dead body stirred nothing in him but cold amusement. This little hide and seek with a muggle occupied all his thoughts, and the loneliness, rather than making him feel on edge, made him feel empowered. It was just him and her, there was no one to judge, no one to offer unwanted advice. He could play this his way, or whichever way he fancied. No pressure. He knew he would win. The muggle was expecting another brute, but Draco was no Avery, and he had his wand. The door at the end of the corridor was open, and this would be where he would either find her or wait for her. He wondered if she had heard him come upstairs. Carefully, he picked up a fallen trinket and threw it as hard as he could across the room, at the window, breaking it. Just as he had expected, he heard, coming from the room, someone jump violently and hit a piece of furniture. He smiled. There she was.

The noise had come from his left. He wondered if she had realised the window had been broken from the inside, or if she thought they were throwing stones at her from outside.

Preparing himself, gathering up his courage, Draco gripped his wand tighter then jumped into the room, pointing it in the direction the noise had come from, directly at...nothing. She was not there. Slightly panicked, Draco looked around furiously but could not see her.

"Looking for this?"

He whirled around so fast it hurt his neck, and there she was. She stood but a couple of feet away from him, and the moonlight caressed her face as she smiled at him, fearless. In her hands she held Avery's wand.

"Well, you can shove it up yours." She said, and with a loud crack she broke the wand in two, on her knee.

She threw the two broken halves at his feet. His wand was still pointing at her, but for the life of him he could not bring himself to utter a spell. She started walking towards him, not at all frightened. Her blue eyes bore into his and all thought had left his mind. He could not tear his eyes away.

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

Vincent to the rescue.

The spell hit the muggle right on the chest and she fell to the ground, still as marble.


End file.
